


Orbit

by CovalentBond



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bucky and Steve are very sad and they love each other but they don't know how to show it, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, It'll have a happy ending i promise, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Slash, Recovery, Time Skips, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CovalentBond/pseuds/CovalentBond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's okay, Buck," Steve tells him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any mistakes, please tell me. :)

It’s been a few months since Steve found Bucky, or rather, Bucky found Steve, because the Winter Soldier will not be found if he does not want to be, but Bucky doesn’t know what he wants anymore. “It’s okay, Buck,” the man says when he tells him, “you don’t have to know what you want. You can figure it out later.”

All he knows is that he knew the man on the bridge- _Steve_ -he reminded himself, he remembers him weighting barely 90 pounds and teeth clattering so loud when the heaters broke that he thought the neighbors would hear. There’s a strange weight in his chest, he wants to protect the kid, to wrap his arms around him to warm him up, to wipe the blood away from his face after a fight, but Steve is no longer the sick little kid he knew. The stubbornness and righteous fury is still there, though, he thinks to himself.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve had said to him after the second time he found his metal fingers wrapped around Steve’s throat, positioned precisely to cut off air supply and crush the spine in a single squeeze. “I’m not giving up on you.” Bucky couldn’t look at him in the eyes for days.

\-----

Bucky’s always loved and hated the stubborn streak Steve had. It got him into more fights than he can remember, saved his scrawny ass just as frequently, but he sometimes wonders if it’s his Achilles heels. His greatest asset turning into his eventual demise, how fitting of a hero. If Bucky had an Achilles heel, it’d be Steve Rogers.

Some days the Soldier comes out and trashes half of the apartment, and Steve is so grateful for the soundproof walls that Stark had installed. Steve picks up the broken vases and picture frames while holding a pack of frozen peas to his jaw.

“It’s okay, Buck, it’s not your fault. I forgive you.” Steve says every time, so Bucky stops apologizing, because he can’t let Steve forgive him, because he doesn’t _deserve_ to be forgiven. The next morning, Bucky would wake up to Steve making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, sporting cuts and bruises that not even his super serum can heal overnight, and Bucky wishes that he had apologized.

Bucky would force himself to finish whatever Steve had put on his plate, because he knows that Steve worries about his weight. So he eats without complaining, and purposely avoids looking at his face. He volunteers to wash and dry the dishes after they’re done, and Steve smiles at him because even though Bucky doesn’t say it out loud, he recognizes an apology when he sees one. “It’s okay, Buck,” Steve would stand beside him next to the sink, “I’ll help you dry.”

\-----

On good days, they go to the supermarket for groceries; because eating takeout and having Natasha and Sam drop by to stock their fridge is only doing so much. Bucky doesn’t let anyone touch him except Steve, not even Natasha, who calls him James and speaks to him in Russian sometimes. Steve is very much the Earth to his moon. He keeps him grounded and makes him feel safe and secure. He slips his hand-the flesh one-into Steve’s pocket and latches himself to his side, like a moon orbiting its planet. The pull of Steve’s gravity is what keeps him in orbit, and he doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he ever fell out of orbit.

Steve always lets Bucky choose. “Chocolate or vanilla?” He’d ask, holding up two giant boxes of ice cream with a grin on his face. The first time Bucky worked up his courage to say “neither,” Steve looked so surprised he thought he had said something wrong.

“Is it okay if we try the mango one?” He pointed to a bright yellow container.

“It’s okay, Buck,” said Steve, “of course it’s okay.”

They ended up buying eight other ‘exotic’ flavors, as the labels said; Bucky chose six of them, and Steve chose the remaining two. They watched an old rerun of Firefly each with a tub of ice cream in their hands, occasionally reaching over to steal a few scoops of each other’s frozen dessert. Halfway through a commercial break, Bucky slapped Steve’s hand away from his tub when he tried to contaminate his coconut ice cream with his dirty spoon.

“Your guava ice cream is gonna ruin my white one,” Bucky had scolded, and fed Steve with his own spoon. He almost missed when Steve suddenly laughed, smearing the corner of his mouth with ice cream. He wiped it off with his thumb and licked it, making Steve laugh even harder. The TV in the background completely forgotten, Bucky smiles back, and feels happy for the first time in a very long time.

\-----

There are times when Bucky snaps at Steve, picking fights and arguing over nothing and everything, and Bucky is not _Bucky_ anymore. He ends up cursing at Steve in Russian, and his eyes grow cold and dark. Steve doesn’t stop him, he screams back, he slams the door just as hard, and glares unflinchingly. Steve doesn’t overpower him, but he doesn’t give him complete control either. He riles him up, gives him an outlet for his anger and rage, gives him leeway for his temper and violence, but he never makes him feel threatened or cornered. The Soldier appreciates that, and shows his gratitude with the form of his alliance and trust.

Steve knows that Bucky is not who he used to be before the war, and to be fair, neither is he. They’ve both changed, for the better or worse, who can tell, but the Winter Soldier accepts Steve Rogers and Captain America, and the fights don’t happen as often anymore.

Bucky wakes up screaming in the middle of the night and the Soldier doesn’t lash out anymore; instead, he leads him to Steve’s ajarred door and knocks. Steve is already awake, has been the moment Bucky had started screaming, he shifts over and lifts the corner of his blanket. Bucky crawls over Steve and settles into the blanket with his back against the wall, facing the door. “It’s okay, Buck,” Steve whispers to him, “I’m here for you.” And Bucky falls asleep surrounded by the solidness of the wall and Steve’s warm presence beside him.

\-----

On one of the rare days where Bucky wakes up before Steve and manages to shower without waking him up, he scribbles a note on a piece of stationary and leaves it by the bedside, grabs his Stark phone, wallet and jacket and leaves. He remembers walking past an arts and crafts store with Steve a few weeks ago, and he retraces their steps, trying to pin point the exact location. He finds it a few blocks away, next to a cozy looking coffee shop, and walks in.

He is immediately hit with the smell of paint, wood, and something distinct, sharp and not unpleasant. There are canvases, paint brushes, sketch books on display with giant price tags next to them. At the front, a petite woman with an apron is popping her gum and twirling a marker in her hands.

“Hey, morning, and welcome!” She smiles at him and pops her gum. Bucky nods back in acknowledgment. “Looking for anything specific?”

“Umm…” He didn’t know what to say, “I, uh…”

“Didn’t get your usual dose of coffee this morning?” She teases harmlessly and spares him from anymore awkwardness, “We’re having a sale on the multimedia sketch books, and all the items marked with a red sticker are fifty percent off.”

“Acrylics,” Bucky clears his throat and tries again, “I need acrylic paints.”

The woman, Anna, her name tag reads, walks around the desk and motions for him to follow her. She leads him to an aisle in the middle, and points out the various brands and sets of paints. “And these ones are good for textures, while this is better for mixing with other mediums.”

Bucky bends down and picks up the biggest set, “Is this the most complete set?” He asks.

“Yes, and I’m assuming you’ll need a few canvas and brushes?” Anna smiles at him again.

“Yes, please,” he adds, remembering his manners, and follows her to another aisle.

“These are the brushes for acrylics, and these are the softer ones, for water color,” she explains, gesturing towards the brushes hanging on the wall, “Do you also want a full set?”

“Yes, the best ones, thank you,” Bucky says, “Can you show me the canvases as well?”

“Sure, follow me.”

 He follows her to yet another aisle, this time stacked from top to bottom with rolls of paper, sketch books and stretched canvases. Afraid that he’s going to knock something over, he shifts the box of paint and the brushes onto his hip.

 “Are you buying these for someone?” Anna suddenly asks.

 “Yeah, a good friend of mine,” Bucky says as he piles four canvases on top of the brushes.

“Is it their birthday?” She questions as she leads them to the checkout counter.

“No,” he frowns, “why?”

“It’s a bit excessive, isn’t it? I mean, if they’re an artist-which I would assume they are, they would already have plenty of brushes and paint.”

Bucky didn’t know how to answer to that, “Steve likes these,” he offers with a shrug and places the supplies in the desk.

Anna gives him a small smile and rings him up.

“You must really like him, huh?”

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky admits, and lets that thought sink in, “Yes, I _do_ really like him.”

She bags the items and hands it to him. He swipes his credit card the way Steve taught him and throws the bag over his shoulders. He waves goodbye to her and leaved with a grin on his face.

The grin leaves his face when he runs into Steve a block away from their apartment, looking out of breathe, scared and lost, and it’s something Bucky never wants to see again. He looks so small and frightened, and Bucky notices right away that he’s still in the clothes that he slept in last night. Steve runs up to him and grabs him by the shoulders, fingers digging into the scars where his metal arm is melted into his flesh.

"Dammit, Buck,” he looks like he’s about to cry, “I thought something-I thought you had left.”

Bucky drops the bag onto the ground and they both pull into a hug, clutching each other desperately, although Bucky doesn’t know why. He would never leave Steve, he thinks to himself, he’s safe with him, he feels at home with him. A moon out of orbit will eventually crash into and burn the nearest planet. No one is allowed to hurt Steve, especially not Bucky himself.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says into Steve’s shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt and pressing against his body as close as possible, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, Buck.”

With Steve’s body pressed against his, chest to chest, face buried into his neck, Bucky feels whole and complete.

Steve pulls away first, wipes away the unshed tears and looks down at the bag for the first time. “What’s that?” He sniffles.

“Art supplies,” Bucky replies, and if his voice sounded funny, Steve didn't mention it, “from that store we sometimes pass by on our way to the grocery's. I thought you’d want to start painting again.”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks.” Steve smiles at him like he’s seeing the sun for the first time and Bucky secretly wonders if he was the Sun to Steve’s Earth.

 They clear away a section of the living room to set up a studio for Steve, moving the couch and the coffee table to the other side of the ridiculously small room and facing the easel towards the window. It takes them a few hours. Once they finish, they order pizza and cheese sticks, and watch Jurassic Park on TV and point out plot holes and inconsistencies.

      


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter takes place around a year after Bucky gets Steve back, and Bucky is more comfortable around people. 
> 
> If you find any mistakes please tell me. :)

Bucky meets Tony a few weeks after coming home to Steve. Tony had sauntered into their apartment with a Stark pad in one hand and tool box in the other. He gave Bucky an onceover and smirk, “Sergeant Barnes,” he nodded at him, “nice to finally meet you.” Then he managed to debug the whole apartment, _twenty-five hidden cameras, nineteen voice recorders, ten heat sensors, Bucky counts,_ and soundproof the entire apartment.

Tony’s resemblance to Howard was eerie, down to the eyebrow raise and the erratic hand movements. He’s got Maria’s eyes and nose, Bucky notes, and he wants to run, hide, scream, wants to _forget,_ because he remembers oh so clearly the moment he had pulled the trigger and the angle that Howard’s head had snapped back and the horrified but silent scream of Maria Stark sitting in the passenger side. He had watched from the top of the building with the sniper in hand as the car spun and flipped on its side, bursting into flames just seconds later, engulfing the vehicle with the Starks inside, who were scratching and clawing frantically at the doors and the windows. If the Soldier were closer, he thinks he could have heard the anguished screams and the desperate gasps as the flames licked away at them, and Bucky is glad he wasn’t.

Bucky had hid in his room during the first few hours of Tony’s unexpected visit, it was Steve who wrapped his arm around his shoulder and urged him to the living room, where Tony was on the couch holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder and balancing a takeout menu on his knees.

“Chinese or Mexican?” Stark called out without looking up, “Cap says Chinese but I say we go for some burritos and churros, what do you think? And you can’t just take his side just because he’s your best friend.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly and pulled Bucky down beside him on the other couch, “It’s okay, Buck, choose whatever you want, Tony’s paying.”

“Only if one of you uses your senior discount,” said Tony.

“We get senior discounts?’ Bucky looked up for the first time and frowned, which startled a laugh out of Steve and a smirk from Tony.

They ended up ordering pizza. “No anchovies, that shit is disgusting,” Tony had bitched. “And no pineapples, who the hell puts fruits on _pizza_?”

Which led to Steve requesting extra pineapples and anchovies, and Tony bitched some more about the tomato sauce providing enough proteins without bringing in the dead baby fishes and disrupting SpongeBob’s natural habitat.

Tony left after pizza, with a reminder to call if anything comes up and a wave and effectively escaped cleanup duty, Bucky had given him a little wave and a nod, and wondered what would happen if Tony found out about his parents. Besides Natalia and Sam Wilson, Tony had been the only other person(excluding SHIELD) to know the Winter Soldier’s whereabouts, and if Steve deems him trustworthy and reliable, then Bucky will as well.

“Look,” Tony had said, “I won’t tell anyone-”

“I know,” Steve reassured.

“But if things get nasty or if you need help,” Tony continued, “I-the team is here for you.”

“Thank you, Tony. I mean it, but we don’t need-“

“I know, I know,” Tony looked over at Bucky, who was slumped over on the kitchen counter, watching them, and softened his gaze, “but _if_ you ever do, just remember that we’re here for you, okay?”

The look Tony gave him wasn’t pity, not quite, but there was sadness and regret mixed with something Bucky couldn’t name. It was the looks that Steve sometimes gave him when he thought he wasn’t watching. “I killed your parents,” Bucky wanted to say. “Okay,” is what he said instead.

\-----

Bucky wakes to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. He listens for Steve in the next room, and hears him mumbling and turning in his covers. Bucky reluctantly pulls off his warm covers and shuffles to the door. He is greeted by Natasha and Sam in their running clothes and boxes of pancake mix and maple syrup in their hands. He steps aside to let them in and dodges the redhead’s futile attempt at ruffling his bed head. Sam closes the door behind him and shoos Bucky off to the bathroom.

“Go brush your teeth and shower; you look like you’re half asleep.”

“That’s because I _am_ half asleep,” Bucky grumbles before obediently shuffling into the bathroom.

Steve graces them with his presence when the smell of the pancakes cooking wafted into his room, and once again, Sam shoos him to the bathroom for a shower. “Gosh, I wrote my highschool History finals on you guys, the least you can do is present yourselves with some dignity.” Natasha hides her smile by busying herself with making the perfect star shaped pancake.

Bucky turns on the coffee maker, and Steve stumbles in a few minutes later with a towel around his neck and dripping wet hair.

“C’mon here, you jerk,” Bucky tugs him closer by his wrist. “Sit down, you’re too tall.”

Bucky pushes Steve down on a stool and walks behind him, picking up the towel and draping it over his head. He pulls Steve’s back flush against his chest and starts ruffling his hair, and Steve squeaks with as much manliness as he can muster up.

“You’re gonna give me rug burn on my face,” he complains and nudges him with his shoulder.

“Suck it up, Rogers.”

Sam laughs as he holds out a plate to Natasha, and she piles on different animal shaped pancakes with her spatula. Sam sets the plate down and they do the same for the next three plates, stacking them five at a time and drowning them with syrup. Steve reaches for the plates at the same time Bucky tugs the towel under his ears, and for a moment Bucky’s metal hand wraps itself against Steve’s throat. Bucky flinches and tries to jerk away but Steve is faster than him, he grabs his hand and hold it there, tangles his fingers with the metallic ones, and presses them onto the side of his neck, where Buck can feel the _thump thump thump_ of his pulse.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve says and tightens his grip.

Bucky gives a squeeze back and they don't comment on how both of their hands are trembling. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually have a plot in mind. 
> 
> They're just little snippets of moments, but I do have an endgame in mind. 
> 
> I'm sorry OTL

Pepper had given them a pair of matching scarves a few weeks ago.

"An early Christmas present," she had said with a fond smile that reminded Bucky of Mrs. Rogers.

"Thank you," Bucky had replied shyly, gripping the navy blue fabric in his hand. The non-metal one, he'd made sure.

Steve got up and hugged her, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome." Her smile was so genuine and full of love, Bucky found himself looking away.

\-----

The yarn doesn't feel the same in his metal hand. It lacks the usual warmth and softness, and sometimes the crevices of the metal plates pinched the material. But Bucky's other hand is comfortably nested in Steve's pocket, so he doesn't mind.

Bucky looks over at Steve's scarf. The red and white stripes stood out against the black jacket, creating the illusion of a halo around his face.

Bucky yanks him by his pocket and pulls him closer.

"You okay?" Steve reaches into the pocket and squeezes Bucky's hand.

Bucky looks up from the scarf and meets his eyes. A stray strand of hair falls onto his face and Steve tucks it behind his ear.

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Do you want to check out that one?"

Steve follows his gaze and sees the colorful booth selling baked goods and chocolates. He looks back at Bucky and laughs. His breath goes white in the cold and Bucky laughs as well.

"What?" Steve asks, grinning.

"What?" Bucky intertwines their fingers in the pocket. "You laughed first."

"You're such a jerk," Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

Bucky tugs him towards the booth, and Steve follows, pressed against his side, warmer than the scarf.

\-----

"Hey," Steve says.

Bucky looks up from his breakfast.

"Hey," he replies.

"Did you make that?" Steve eyes the piles of pancakes on the plate.

"Pancake mix," Bucky pours more maple syrup onto his plate. "Followed the instructions. Wasn't that hard."

Steve narrows his eyes. "Did Natasha drop by and make them for you?"

"Your lack of faith in my cooking abilities hurts me," Bucky pouts and puts his hand against his heart.

Steve snorts and searches through a weeks worth of dirty dishes for a clean mug.

"I just don't want you burning down our apartment."

"It's a shitty apartment anyways, Rogers."

Steve turns around and raises his eyebrows.

"Don't let what Tony says fool you. He just wants us to move closer to the tower." Steve is teasing.

"What makes you think he told me anything?" Bucky retorts. And he knows Steve doesn't mean anything by it. But that doesn't stop the uncertainty and hurt from showing on his face. "I am capable of forming opinions without being influenced by other people."

Steve's smile falls abruptly and Bucky feels horrible.

"Bucky," Steve starts. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Steve," Bucky grits out between clinched teeth. "Shut up."

"Buck, I am so sorry."

"No, Steve. Just," Bucky looks away, because his eyes are stinging with tears of frustration. "Fuck."

"I didn't mean it that way, you know I would never-"

"I know, Steve." But Bucky can't bring himself to turn around and look into those pleading eyes. He blinks away the moisture and swallows. "I'm sorry, I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Steve is silent, save for his breathing. He reaches for Bucky's metal hand and folds it into his.

Bucky turns around, still not meeting his eyes.

"It's okay, Buck."

Bucky stares at the ground and clears his throat after a while.

"Pancakes?" He asks timidly.

Steve's face splits into a grin and his grip on Bucky's hand tightens.

"Yes, please."


End file.
